


(Chemical) Reaction

by AnotherWorld3111



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Character Death Fix, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Sam Winchester (mentioned) - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Dean was falling apart, collapsing against Cas with a gasping sob. Unyielding under him as they hurried down a corridor, trying to get away, Cas held strong.When he looked, Dean looked into the depths of blue, committing to memory even as he hoped he’d never need to again.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 152





	(Chemical) Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to sleep. But I can’t, cuz I’m still trying to figure out what kind of genre I gotta write to *effectively* cope

_ “I made a deal.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “I was... awake. I don’t know how. Or what happened—” _

_ “—was it because we dealt with Chuck?” _

_ “I-I don’t know, Sam. But... I talked to the Empty, and... I can stay.” _

_ “‘Stay?’” _

_ A slow, gummy smile that Dean thought he’d never see again. His heart ached something fierce at the sight.  _

_ “Until you die.” _

_ “But if we go to Heaven—” _

_ “—We can deal with that when the time comes.” Because Cas was here now, and that’s all that mattered.  _

oOo

“Dean...”

He swallowed, closing his eyes. He’d been certain, started to come to terms that he wouldn’t hear that voice again — 

Except. Who was he fooling? He was barely dealing, barely holding on.

“Cas.” His voice, embarrassingly, cracked. He hoped Cas didn’t notice, choosing to turn around instead, but that was actually worse, fuck, because now he was looking at Cas, those bright blue eyes, focused on Dean like the rest of the world didn’t exist—

Dean couldn’t blame him. He felt pretty much the same right now, anyway. 

“About what I said—”

“No.” He shook his head. Before he could register Cas’s face falling, and damn it, he couldn’t deal with that right now, he was striding forward, a hand grabbing to Cas’s shoulder — mirroring Cas’s grip, before he pushed him to the side — his other hand sliding over Cas’s cheek, cupping the stubbled jaw. 

Dean lost this. Could’ve lost this forever, without a second chance, but Cas was back, and now—

Now, Dean was pulling Cas into a hug, closing his eyes as he tried to push down the swell of emotions surging within him, threatening to come out like a tsunami’s wave. 

Stiff at first, Cas was quick to soften, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist, holding onto him just as tight. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean said gruffly, voice low, muffled as he pressed his mouth into Cas’s coat, the damn familiar coat, at the last moment.

A parody of a lover’s kiss. 

The thought was like a train wreck, all other thoughts coming to a screeching halt, record player jarringly stopped. His fingers dug into the back of Cas’s coat, and all of a sudden, Dean  _ yearned _ , longed for more, no longer having enough, never enough, not after—

“Don’t you dare—”

Cas pulled back, searching eyes pooling with concern, and Dean let him, even as the growing distance screamed at him like a wounded animal. 

He swallowed again, throat bobbing furiously as he tried and failed to find the words. 

Instead, eyes pinned to a gaze that pierced him since Hell, he leaned close, hand on Cas’s cheek guiding, suggesting, and Cas met him halfway. 

True love’s kiss, such a chick-flick term, but Dean Winchester loved chick-flicks, he  loved Cas, and the feel of Cas’s slightly chapped lips, so soft against his own, was worth everything he’d done in his miserable life, worth it all if it got him here, but not soon enough, never soon enough, why didn’t they do this sooner—

Dean was falling apart, and he did it visibly, collapsing against Cas with a gasping sob. Forever holding his weight, warm and sturdy — _unyielding_ _under him as they hurried down a corridor, trying to get away_ — Cas held strong. 

Still. Dean led them the few feet backwards to his bed. Not enough, never enough, no more delays. 

Falling backwards onto it, Cas only just holding himself back before he crushed Dean as he followed him, they were pressed together as tight as they could be, Dean holding Cas close, but it still wasn’t enough, never enough—

“You can’t—I thought you were gone, and—”

Cas hushed him, soft croons a motherly reassurance Dean never had, but then Cas was pecking him on the lips again. He wasn’t pushing any further than Dean had gone — letting Dean take the lead, he realized — but Dean wanted him to push, wanted him to lead, to take, to ground Dean as much as he could ground himself, never leave again. 

Dean kicked off their shoes, heavy thuds he ignored. Cas didn’t, pulling back, slightly flushed, eyes so wide and expressive, “are you sure?” coming out breathless. 

Dean nodded, more sure about this than he’d been in years.

Ducking down, soft kisses peppered repeatedly as Dean prompted, nudged until Cas got with the program, unbuttoning his shirt, slipping off layers over the course of too many minutes, not letting Dean enjoy as he encouraged Dean with his own layers, because yes, Dean wanted it, wanted to feel their skin together, surely it was better than just sight.

He still had the vision of Cas’s smile seared in his head, eyes closing with acceptance, a single tear trailing down his cheek.

Angels weren’t supposed to cry. 

Torsos overheated, Dean was so, so warm. Selfishly, eagerly, he wanted more, never satiated. Nails scratched ownership into Cas’s back, pulling him flush against Dean. 

He must’ve pulled their pants off at one point, but he had no recollection of doing so. It didn’t matter, not as much as imprinting the feel of their hard cocks rubbing against each other into the most permanent storage area of his brain. 

“Please—” words, words were everything — useless. Important. Unnecessary. Crucial. 

Dean could barely form the ones he needed, wanted, and deserved. 

“In me—” 

This time, it was Cas who gasped, a glorious song, alive and full of everything — emotions, air, life — as he reared back to regard Dean, as if to ask.

Cas had already had his turn speaking. Dean may not have had any words, but actions speak louder than words, right?

Reaching to the side, a bottle of lube that could’ve been ancient, but Dean didn’t care, he only cared about the man above him.

A finger slipped into deep secrets, one hardly dared to be entertained, and Dean watched as Cas watched him, pupils dilating, blue swallowed by black.

It should’ve scared him, painfully so, black so reminiscent of creepy crawlers stealing Cas — but Cas was looking at him with-with adoration. Lust and love and devotion.

Grounded, feeling himself melt into the mattress even as his muscles tensed, coiling and bucking up into tempting muscles above him, a finger became two. 

A graze, a stroke, and his eyes closed despite himself. Their connection broken, he could’ve cried, maybe yelled, but maybe Cas sensed something was wrong, profound bond since day one, because barely a second later, Cas’s lips were back, not pulling away once as two fingers became three. 

Dean knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should prepare himself more, be more thorough. None of that mattered, not when Cas was so close, so ready, a slick hand almost getting carried away covering the length of it before guiding, leading Cas, sharing his secret, it was only fair for him to do so after Cas dropped the bombshell of a revelation—

Seated within Dean in one slow, long glide, Dean felt complete.

He could’ve cried, maybe laughed. Instead, clutching Cas tighter, closer, too close yet not close enough, it didn’t take long for Cas to finally start moving, once Dean gave the good to go, of course. 

Slow, steady movements that built a slow, steady pressure from the base of his spine, spreading throughout his body until his fingers and toes were tingling with it. Legs around Cas’s waist, arms around his neck, Dean breathed deeply, panting beside Cas’s ear. Cas’s open mouth latched onto the skin behind Dean’s ear, and he bucked, discovering friction as his arousal rubbed against Cas. 

He tilted his head as Cas twisted, their mouths searching each other’s out as they desperately connected them, movements growing rockier, faster as they grew closer to the edge. 

If Dean was going to fall, he would never allow it to be done alone, never again.

Warmth exploding within him, senses erupting into pure heat, Dean rocked with pure pleasure — blissful — and tortured sobs — aching. 

Still holding Dean close, Cas pulled out, laying them on their sides. Never enough contact, too much and not enough. Dean inched closer, flush, tightly packed, where who ended and where who begun — to say he didn’t care to find out was still an understatement. 

Head on Cas’s bicep, keeping him in place as much as the rest of their entwined limbs, Dean looked into the depths of blue, committing to memory even as he hoped he’d never need to again. 

The words came to him so easily then, that he didn’t have to think about letting them out. 

“I love you too.”


End file.
